


Paint a Sky and Stars

by authoresskika



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Family Fluff, Holidays, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-22
Updated: 2014-12-22
Packaged: 2018-03-02 18:34:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2822099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/authoresskika/pseuds/authoresskika
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Epilogue Canon; "Difficult as the baby might be, Peeta wants him to enjoy the same sort of holiday magic his big sister gets. But therein lies the problem of a fretful infant: what does he want for but his mother's breast and a comforting embrace? His needs are infinitely basic. So how on Earth can those be made special enough for a gift?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Paint a Sky and Stars

The idea first rooted in Peeta's head from a book of pre-Panem, one he'd never had the priviledge to see before, even as a Victor. Peeta's eyes had flitted over the explanation of the ancient origins of those called Pagans, the adoption of it by people called Christians, and the morphing of it to become less a religious notion to one more mainstream and materialistic. The idea of extravagant gifts and decorations should have appealed greatly to the people of the old Capitol, Peeta had thought. But then, why would Capitolites settle for such things just once a year?

It had not been something he'd expect to appeal to Katniss, who for so many years after the fighting stopped felt like she had very little to celebrate. She'd think a tree belonged in a forest, not their living room. Lights and energy shouldn't be wasted. And she was never the sort of girl who wanted fancy gifts. Peeta didn't want to make her uncomfortable, but he did want her to remember that life - their lives - go on.

So he started with tiny things: simple decorations she didn't even notice when he put up and didn't miss when he took them down. Baked goods filled with different spices and fruit to make the whole house smell just a little different. Practical things they needed anyway that just so happened to be wrapped in a bit of brightly colored paper. It was years before she caught on and asked him to explain things. He'd told her he wanted to show her how good life could be, even after everything they'd gone through.

(If he lives a thousand years, he'll never forget the way she had kissed him. Or everything that happened  _after_. First times are like that.)

It's been years since then, of course, and everything is different. It isn't just the two of them and a mangy, surly cat in their house any longer. Every day with his family is special and beautiful; but when the days grow short, the wind turns bitter cold, and the snow begins to fall, Peeta makes extra sure that their home is bright and merry.

He recalls reading that in pre-Panem, this was an extra special time of the year for children. He and Katniss had discussed the merits of the tale of the father-elf and his magic sleigh who delivered gifts and candy to good children and coal to naughty ones. Katniss, however, was far too practical for such a thing. Their daughter had been born during the very first snowfall of the year, and they'd spent the dark months cuddled up with the tiny thing in front of a crackling fire, their hearth gleaming with gold, red, and green baubles and the scent of pine sharp in their noses. Unlike her parents, who'd known only back-breaking, neverending work and hungry bellies, they were determined their daughter would know only joy and beauty.

By the time she could walk and grab and get into things thanks to her curious mind, when the cold came, Peeta began leaving paper-wrapped trinkets for her to find. While she discovered everything about the world by popping it into her mouth, cookies or harmless toys she couldn't choke on. When she was a little older, and had sussed out her Papa's hiding places, trinkets discovered by her Mama in the woods or sent from Miss Effie in the Capitol became the norm. And one special night every year, always the week before the New Year, they'd come up with something really special: a box of finger paints and a booklet of crisp, blank, white paper. An almost-too-large for her arms stuffed cat that looked a prettier version of Buttercup, who'd they'd finally said goodbye to and buried in the back yard the previous spring. Their girl would giggle, wrap her pudgy arms around her parents' necks, and kiss their cheeks with the sloppy lips of an over-eager child.

(Katniss didn't want presents once the girl came. She told Peeta what made her happiest was seeing their baby's face light up. But after they tucked the girl into bed, they'd linger in front of the fire and his hands would roam and knead her flesh. His mouth would chart courses across her scarred skin, burning her with the exquisite fire of passion. Their hips would pivot and rock and melt together. For Peeta, the best sort of gift were her cries of pleasure sharp and clear in his ears, and the nightmareless nights they'd spend in each other's arms.)

(Until she told him they were having another baby, that is.)

Their son came in the hottest part of the summer. He came into the world screaming, and for the longest time, he never seemed to stop. They were overjoyed to have him, of course, but they'd gotten used to the cherry-sweet disposition of their daughter, so a fretful baby was an adjustment. Nights were the worst, because the babe never seems to sleep more than a few minutes at a time, and his cries would keep the girl awake and fussy, too. Some nights they'd send her to Delly or to Haymitch, because at least then she'd sleep unencumbered by her baby brother's wailing. The only thing that seems to soothe him is Katniss's breast and Peeta's arms, so they hold him, and sleep even less than they usually do.

* * *

Years before, when Delly Cartwright had reopened her family's decimated business, she began special ordering blades that could be attached to the bottoms of the shoes she sold. "Ice skates", she'd called them when Peeta had asked her for an explanation. They'd never lost popularity in the Capitol, but frivolity didn't hold much weight in their poor District.

"This is a new Panem," Delly had told Peeta. "Shouldn't we get to play as hard as we work?"

Every winter since, a pond is poured in front of the Cartwright Shoe Shop. Renting the blades is free, so long as citizens do as Delly asks and simply "have fun".

Winter finally comes in, cold as always. Despite the still fussy baby, the fresh snowfall and promise of an evergreen tree near their hearth cheers the entire family. And their little dancing girl in particular thinks that ice skates are utter magic. As soon as it's cold enough for the ice to set, they go nearly every night. Peeta can't handle the awkward motion with his artificial leg, and someone needs to hold the bundled baby anyway, so every night, he watches his two girls glide and dance on the pond, as weightless as beautiful birds. He keeps a carafe of hot chocolate and basket of cheese buns in a pack at his hip for when they're tired and cold and need a break. A feeding before they leave calms the baby as much as can be expected, and Peeta rocks him as he watches.

On clear nights, despite the chill, his boy usually falls asleep in his lap. It's shocking, the silence and calm. "Thank the stars," Peeta whispers to himself.

His son sleeps. His girls dance. His life is good again.

* * *

Difficult as the baby might be, Peeta wants him to enjoy the same sort of holiday magic his big sister gets. But therein lies the problem of a fretful infant: what does he want for but his mother's breast and a comforting embrace? Stuffies and toys do nothing to keep him occupied. His needs are infinitely basic. So how on Earth can those be made special enough for a gift?

He agonizes over the conundrum for days. He throws himself into baking, hoping the scents of cinnamon and sage will invigorate his brain. He cuts pine boughs and hangs too-large knitted socks that Katniss calls more comical than festive. But nothing comes to him, and as the special day looms closer, he's utterly disheartened that he's come up with nothing.

Then it snows for three straight days. It's too bitter, too frosty, so the family is cooped up indoors until the storm passes. Between a screaming infant and rowdy child, it's three days too long without a break. When at last it's clear and a path to Town has been carved out, they can't make it into the square fast enough. Peeta has to help Delly shovel off the ice pond, but he's rewarded with the lilting giggle of his daughter and several other children her age. Katniss takes the girl by the hand and helps her fly across the pond, and Peeta settles in with the wriggling, cranky baby.

When darkness falls, and the girl has convinced Katniss for "five more minutes" on the ice, the boy finally settles and falls still in his father's lap. Peeta glances down to make sure he's alright, and sees the baby's pewter grey eyes darting to and fro, as if he's watching. Peeta looks behind him to see if someone's appeared there and attracted the boy's attention, but there's nothing. At least, he doesn't think so at first.

He's reluctant to move, lest it stir the baby into wakefulness, but finally, inspiration strikes.

* * *

She bounds down the stairs with a squeal, and leaps into Peeta's flour-covered, paint-flecked arms like she's taking flight.

"Papa! It's  _today_!" she squeaks.

"It sure is, Pumpkin. But for now, we're being super quiet until Mama brings your brother down. It's still early."

(For the girl, at least. Not for Peeta, who's been awake all night, and only half that time rocking the baby.)

He gives her a mixing bowl and ingredients she can't ruin or make too big a mess with so she feels as though she's helping, and despite the exhaustion that permeates his body, he finishes baking their bread for breakfast and sips the strongest tea he can brew. Katniss comes down with the freshly nursed and changed baby after he pulls the loaf from the oven, and while it cools, they let the girl scramble into the living room and open her brightly wrapped oblong present.

Their daughter gasps. "Mama! It looks just like yours."

"Will you promise you'll only use it when we're practicing together, and listen to absolutely everything I tell you to do with it?" Katniss asks.

"Uh huh!"

"Do you  _promise_?" Katniss presses.

"I  _promise_ ," the girl swears. Peeta laughs. Six may have been too early for the girl's very first bow.

Their daughter gets on her hands and knees and searches all around the underside of the tree. "But there's nothing else! Not for Mama, not for you, Papa! And not for the baby!"

Peeta smiles gently. There's nothing left but to show them. He reaches for the girl's hand, props his son against his shoulder, and leads them all up the stairs.

The nursery isn't used much, not when the baby needs to be perpetually held as he does. The birch crib hasn't been slept in since their girl was small enough for it. But hopefully, so hopefully, that will change.

"Look up," he tells his family, and two pairs of eyes willingly look to the ceiling. He has to adjust the baby in his arms, but he can tell the exact moment when the boy's eyes focus.

Katniss gasps in approval when they enter the unused room. At their hips, the girl spins in circles and applauds her Papa.

"It looks just like the stars in the Square, Papa!" she squeals.

"That was the point, Pumpkin."

Katniss climbs up the ladder Peeta had used all night to get a better look at the ceiling mural, and as the girl continues to dance between them, Peeta tilts the baby's ear towards his own mouth.

"The best thing I could hope to give you, little guy, is a good night's sleep. Is this enough like those stars you're so enamored by to make that happen?" he whispers so that only the baby can hear him.

The little one's attention doesn't waver. Peeta creeps forward, bends at the waist, and places his son in the crib. All three gather around and watch as the boy's focus eventually wanes, and gives way to heavy eyelids and quiet, gentle little snores.

They slip from the bedroom quietly, close the door tightly behind them. There's bread to eat, a bow to test out, a nap for Peeta, maybe another evening of skating until the girl is all tuckered out, and the boy decides the mural is, in fact, similar enough that all need to happen today. Today is their family's special day. Another reminder of how good life got for them.

As their daughter amuses herself with her new prize, he slips his arms around Katniss's waist, presses a kiss to the patch of skin under her ear, and smiles as he says, "Now then… About  _your_  present…"


End file.
